Heavy
by sparklesthedark
Summary: A companion piece to 8.12 through Robin's eyes.


First himym fic, but not a first time shipper. The gap between 8.12 and 8.13 left me itching to write.

Obviously I don't own anything.

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There was that heavy, sinking feeling. Anxiety. Fear. Nervous. All of the above. The elevator ride took longer than normal, but she found herself wishing that it would take even longer. How did she know what awaited her on the top of the roof?

What the hell was she supposed to do, smack the ring out of Barney's hand?

_Sorry to interrupt the most beautiful_—she snorted as she thought of the moment being _beautiful_; it would be terrifying and weird and full of unwanted commitment and, and, and—_but you should be down on one knee proposing to me instead._

Would he even be on one knee?

She immediately rushed that thought from her brain. She almost forgot to breathe as she checked her running mascara in the reflection on the elevator door. God she was such a mess.

Men did not make mess out of Robin Scherbatsky. She was tough and independent and did not let some stupid, meaningless fling—well, ok, maybe not meaningless. There was that awkward relationship a few years ago, but neither of them were really the commitment type.

There were moments.

Fleeting glances where his eyes met hers across the booth or an accidental touch as his fingers brushed the exposed thigh at the tip of her dress. And there was heat and fire and this burning feeling in her stomach and—

It meant nothing. Nothing. She had firmly told Ted that she wasn't in love with him.

Of all the heat and fire and burning feelings over the years, there had never been a feeling defined as love. She couldn't deny Barney was great in bed. Hell, she'd tried to sleep with him a few weeks ago just to get him, it, _these feelings_ out of her system.

And as the elevator stopped on the top floor and she walked out, she found herself glued to the floor. The short hallway that led onto the roof was in front of her, and she couldn't move.

If he was out there proposing to someone he loved, someone who could make him _genuinely_ happy, who was she to go out there and stop it? It was all so confusing. If she took herself away from the situation, she would be able to see how ridiculous she was being.

Ruining someone else's engagement night, possibly ruining the best friendship she has ever had, destroying herself dignity—all for what?

That man, that absurd, arrogant, childish, funny, handsome, awesome…And she's blending him and analyzing him when she shouldn't be. And suddenly she's thinking about her hands clutching the sheets in his bed while his lips brush her collarbone. There's a fire in the pit of her taut stomach, and she storms towards the door to the roof.

She peeks outside but there is no Patrice. And more importantly there is no Barney.

What there is:

Rose petals. Candles. It's so beautiful and the skyline is right behind and in front of everything and it is the most perfect place in the world and she wishes Barney was here to see this with her because it's just so amazingly _awesome_.

Something in the back of her head is disappointed. Maybe she was too late. Maybe they had already become engaged. Maybe they were sharing a cab home right now, to Barney's apartment where—

There is a paper lying on the ground next to one of the candles.

And everything falls into place.

And she's reading it and it's all so clearly _Barney_ and some part of her is jumping up and down that this is real because it's what she wants. But she's frustrated. If he would have just made his feelings clear, if he would have just told her outright instead of lying when he broke up with Nick for her…

She's coming up with more and more reasons to hate him than to love him as the numbers get larger. God, pretending to date her most hated coworker? That's so low. Even Barney Stinson shouldn't go so low as to make her jealous or mad that way. A little voice in her head tells her that it worked, but the louder voice continues to find things to be angry about.

It all culminates when he appears seemingly out of nowhere.

And she's yelling at him. It's not exactly yelling, but she's clearly unhappy with what he's set up for her, despite its undeniable sentimental beauty.

"So thank you. You've set me free because, how could I be with a man who thinks this _trick_, this enormous _lie_ could ever make me want to date him again?" she finishes, angrily, actually trying to believe everything she says. It would be so much easier to kiss him and pretend this was a dream come true.

"Turn it over," he says, his expression unchanging.

She huffs, not enjoying being told what to do. It takes her a split second to even find the words on the page, because the page is so goddamn big. But she does, and it makes her heart do a funny flip thing and then she gets feelings. Heat and fire and burning feelings.

She looks up and he's on one knee and the words are out of his mouth before she is even able to fully process what just happened. Barney Stinson is on one knee. He is proposing. Her brain was in overload, her emotions running too high, and it was enough to break the emotional façade she had managed to erect between what she wanted to believe and what she really felt.

"Robin Scherbatsky," he breathes, looking into her eyes. And she knows she looks like an idiot.

"Will you marry me?"

She doesn't remember saying yes. She remembers watching him stand up quickly, almost dizzyingly fast, and he's kissing her.

Her free hand touches his face—which is surprisingly warm despite the frigid temperature—and his hands rest firmly where her shoulder blades meet her back. She feels the paper drop from her hands, and all she is aware of is the fact that this man, this crazy man, is the only person she will get to kiss for the rest of her life.

Forever.

And he's pulling away and she's confused. She knows that he can tell because he just smiles at her slightly while he pulls the ring—in the days to come, she would admire it on her hand for the sheer size alone—out of the box and onto her finger. He's nervous and shaking because it bumps against her skin.

And he's smiling into her mouth as he kisses her again and she's laughing too and it's all wonderful and like a fairy tale. She faintly remembers opening her eyes halfway to see snow, but all she really sees for a long time is the inside of her eyelids.

And maybe, just maybe, she can concede to being in-love with him after all.


End file.
